


Leave it all

by heartequals (savvygambols)



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-20
Updated: 2011-08-20
Packaged: 2017-10-24 10:35:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/262517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/savvygambols/pseuds/heartequals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by we_are_cities' prompt on <a href="http://we-are-cities.livejournal.com/305393.html">Aug 16 2011</a> & by skylilies' fanmix <a href="http://colournoise.livejournal.com/10059.html">gentle beats</a>.</p><p>On the way home, Heffron uses his head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leave it all

“You couldn’t keep yourself unhurt,” says Gene. “Here I thought the war was over, but you couldn’t keep yourself unhurt for a whole day.”

Babe shrugs. He is unapologetic and enjoying Gene wavering between disbelief and amusement. He is also going to throw up from nerves, but that’s something else entirely.

“We’re on a boat, Babe.”

“That we are, Doc.”

Gene looks at him, then smiles and shakes his head. “Lemme see.” He stands and gestures for Babe for sit.

Babe sits on Gene’s bunk. Gene pushes Babe’s head to the side to look at the cut above Babe’s ear. It isn’t a deep cut. Babe’s not actually all that concerned about his head.

“We've been on a boat,” mutters Gene, “for a whole day. You’re s’pposed to be safe here.” His fingers brush the side of Babe’s head as he examines the cut. It might not even be deep enough to be called a cut, come to think of it. Babe quirks the side of his mouth, a quick half-smile. He walked into a bulkhead, he saw an opportunity, he sought Gene out. Gene had the good graces to be alone, feet propped up on the bunk across from him, when Babe stepped in the door and said “Medic?”

“Think you’re gonna live,” says Gene.

“Are you sure?” Babe is having a hard time not laughing, either at the gentle irritation in Gene’s voice or from his nerves or his own reckless stupidity. He walked into a bulkhead, he saw an opportunity, he sought Gene out, he’s starting to regret it. Babe’s done a lot of stupid things in his life. This is one of the worst.

“I ain’t worrying,” says Gene. He reaches for his canteen and pulls a handkerchief out from his pocket. “Reckon you shouldn’t.” He tips some water on to the handkerchief and starts to dab at Babe’s head. “Babe.”

“Doc.” Babe closes his eyes briefly. “Gene, what’re you doin’ when you get back?”

“Going on home,” says Gene. He sounds almost absentminded, automatic in his surety of where he belongs. His hands are gentle on Babe’s head, but then again, they always were.

“Louisiana?”

“No other place I can call home,” says Gene. “No other place I want to, either.”

Babe starts to nod, but Gene’s hands still him. “Never been to Lousiana.”

“You’ve always got a welcome,” says Gene. “Always.”

Okay. “Gene, I.” He pauses. He is definitely going to throw up. Funny how talking to Gene makes him sicker than the whole damn war. “Look, Gene. I don’t, uh.” He pauses again.

Gene frowns. “How hard you’d hit your head?” He finishes cleaning Babe’s pathetic head wound. The handkerchief is bloody at least. That makes Babe feel a bit better.

“Not hard enough,” says Babe.

“You hurt yourself on this boat and find you can’t be fixed,” warns Gene. “I’m gonna toss you over.” He screws the lid of his canteen back on. “Right over the bow.” He sets the canteen down. “Spina won’t stop me. Spina’ll help.”

“Aw, shit,” says Babe. Gene sits down on the bunk across from him. He looks amused, like Babe’s said something meaningful.

Something in Babe breaks at the sight of that smile. He’s been carrying this _thing_ around since Bastogne, this thing that grew in Foy, solidified in Haguenau, became permanent in Landsberg and damn near killed him in Berchtesgaden. Berchtesgaden, with all the sunshine and free time and clean clothes and real beds and swimming and paratrooper medics wandering down extravagant hallways in towels and wet t-shirts – this is the thing breaks inside of him. To hell with it.

“Come home with me,” says Babe and winces because he sounds like he’s pleading and that was not what he was supposed to say anyway. What he meant to say was, Christ, Gene, I might be in love with you and the war’s over now and maybe I won’t see you again, least, not for a long time, and I just wanted to say it because. Because. Because I’m only here because of you. Shit.

“You gotta be kidding,” says Gene.

Babe looks at the floor. That thing breaks again. Possibly shatters. Possibly throws itself off the bow of this boat. “Right. Come visit, I mean.”

Gene ignores him, or appears to. “You think I’m gonna give up sunshine. No.” Gene shakes his head. “I don’t ever want to see snow again. But,” he adds, “you could come home with me.”

Babe looks up. Gene looks thoughtful. “What?”

“No snow,” says Gene. “Don’t know how you feel about snow these days.”

“Hate it,” says Babe without thinking. “Never want to see it again.”

“All right then.” Gene smiles at him. To hell with it, Babe thinks again.

“Gene.”

“Ba-abe.” Gene pulls the vowel. Babe thinks if he has to look at his gentle mocking face, amusement just under the surface and eyes practically fucking glittering, he is actually going to walk into another bulkhead and this time on purpose. Jesus Christ. He leans forward, grabs Gene’s jacket and pulls him danger close. “The whole damn war,” he says. “I know it wasn’t right, I know it, but the whole damn war I kept it to myself. Couldn’t let it – couldn’t let you – couldn’t. I knew, they told me, momma, I mean, but I told myself too, don’t bring love or longing or any of that, don’t bring it with you into the war, it’ll hurt ya, but I never thought it’d, you -- the whole damn war.”

Babe is ineloquent. He kisses Gene to shut himself up.

Gene hums and opens his mouth without hesitation. That shocks Babe enough so that he pulls away immediately, dropping his hand.

Gene is still smiling at him, one of those small, quiet smiles that has been breaking and mending and making fun of Babe for several months now. Babe fumbles for the words to express the _what the hell_ that is rising in his throat. He settles for the simplest. “What the hell.”

“The whole damn war,” says Gene. “You know you weren’t the only one. You know that.”

Babe’s still stuck on _what the hell_ which is rapidly turning into _son of a bitch_ , so he keeps his mouth shut, or at least mostly shut, and waits for Gene to elaborate. Gene does not, but his face turns serious.

“Didn’t you?” he says.

“No,” says Babe. He thought he’d been crazy. Well, no, he knew he was crazy, falling in love in the middle of a goddamn war that was going to destroy them both. He just thought Gene was crazy too, keeping an eye on Babe specially and seeking his company and not minding when Babe did the same. But hell.

“Shame,” says Gene. He licks his lips. Babe curls his hands around the edge of the bunk to stop himself from leaping at Gene or running away, whichever came more naturally. “Coulda kept you sane. Kept me sane, knowing. Having.”

“The whole goddamn war and you didn’t think to tell me,” says Babe.

“Didn’t think I should bring it up, what with the goddamn war’n’all.” Gene is still making fun of him, despite his sincerity. “Didn’t want it to get in the way of what I had to do. Carried it with me though.” He’s not smiling now. “I carried it, same as you.”

“Son of a bitch,” says Babe. His palms are starting to hurt from where he grips the bunk.

“No one ever told me not to bring love with me,” says Gene. He frowns. “Love and longing. Why’d you tell yourself that?”

“Thought it’d keep me sane,” says Babe. He swallows and looks away. “Thought I’d get through it faster with nothin’ to lose.”

Gene leans forward, grabs Babe’s jacket in one hand and his chin in the other and kisses Babe. Babe closes his eyes and thinks, the whole goddamn war.

Gene pulls back after too short a time. Babe nearly pitches forward trying to follow him. His cheeks flush. Gene says, “you never were sane if you kept yourself thinkin’ that way.”

“To hell with you. I made it through,” says Babe. His face is still hot.

“Least we both did. Too bad,” says Gene with another small smile, “that your mind didn’t make it with you. If it ever was there at all. Nothing to lose -- how’d you make it through this war, thinking something like that?”

“Guess I found something to lose,” says Babe.

“That you did,” says Gene and he starts to laugh and Babe finally lets go, takes Gene’s jacket in both hands and pushes Gene back onto the bunk.


End file.
